Holloway crumpled Deadpool into a ball, like a discarded newspaper, and then piled a heap of garbage and rubble on top of him.
"Just play dead for a while, don't move."
After saying this, Holloway pulled out a stack of paper and a pen from his waist bag and started to scribble quickly on them. After writing, he copied them twice and signed his name.
Then he forcefully closed Deadpool's eyes, only to realize he was still 'unresting in peace,' as the mask couldn't close eyes. He shrugged and chuckled awkwardly; once he entered work mode, he always felt like he was back in the hospital.
He crawled toward the three women and, ensuring his voice could be heard, waved the papers twice.
"Which one of you is Wade Wilson's relative? Come get the death certificate!"
The three women involuntarily stopped fighting. Although it was strange for a doctor to issue a death certificate here, they just heard Deadpool's name.
Wade? Death certificate?
Curiosity and panic rendered them incapable of continuing the battle.
Inez rushed over first, snatched one, and looked down to see the cause of death—'self-healing cell failure collapse syndrome.'
???
What kind of illness is this?
She turned to look at Wade and found Wade buried under a pile of garbage, immobile.
"Don't fight over it, don't fight, each of you has one, Wade's death certificate, one for each of you." Holloway got up from the ground, handed the remaining certificates to Vanessa and Domino, then turned and left.
"We'll cremate the body and split the ashes among you, as a keepsake."
"No!!!"
The three rushed toward Wade's 'body,' discovering he seemed indeed dead, no heartbeat, nothing, seemingly just a skin.
"Grieve now, it's wartime; the dead are inevitable." Holloway said with a sorrowful look, dragging Wade's 'body' away forcefully.
The three women remained in place, dumbstruck, looking at each other, at a loss, only able to follow the doctor step by step. They knew that the Avenging Angel was an excellent surgeon; at times like these, a doctor's words held a certain authority.
Holloway turned to look at the stunned women, temporarily deceived but soon to regain their senses.
He quickly arrived at the battle line location, threw Deadpool's body to Su Ming, and urged a swift retreat.
What treatment Wade would face after they realized he wasn't dead was a matter for the future.
"Nice trick, how did you think of it?" Su Ming fought off some enemies, returned behind the line, dragging Wade's mush.
Holloway panted heavily, glancing at the three women behind with suspicious eyes, whispering: "I had a distant cousin, who also owed a heap of romantic debts. When I was young, he told me: 'If you love over a dozen women but have just one marriage certificate, then give each one a divorce certificate...' like this."
Su Ming grinned at Monac in the sky, also inspecting Holloway's mustache: "Speaking of, wasn't your cousin a Stark?"
"No, he died a long time ago." Holloway shrugged, embarrassedly saying: "He failed; not every woman wants a divorce certificate. First, he was poisoned, then stabbed over a dozen times, and a former aunt of mine cut off his head, sailed out to sea with it; I reckon he went to Greenland..."
Su Ming chuckled lightly, raised the Godslayer to block some bullets, Holloway's relative was quite genuine; if one were so amorous, why not create several fake identities for marriages?
In Su Ming's hand like a towel, Wade suddenly felt a chill, despite being turned to mush with his brain barely retaining thinking ability, instinctively sensing a coldness at his neck.
Many soldiers who lost limbs on the battlefield experience similar sensations; their lifetime marked by the pain of losing limbs, as if the limbs still were part of them.
This condition is called phantom pain.
Su Ming didn't care about his thoughts; Deadpool had caused trouble, dragged behind, and the enemy's next reactions remained unknown, adding to the fluctuations. Such a guy should get his head chopped off and sent to Greenland.
Now straight to the third plan, evacuate, then gather explosives and launch guerrilla warfare against the German Army, making them feel the threat to withdraw the airship carrying the Namor Fragment.
"Constrict the lines!"
Su Ming shouted instantly to Little Rascal and Cable, signaling everyone to converge, using various means amidst gunfire and explosions, skillfully countering enemy projectiles, rather frantically.
Monac, having received his signal earlier, quickly released a giant blinding technique, spewing dense black smoke like a squid over enemy heads.
It's something he stole from the Hell Plane, where volcanoes and lava eternally burn, opening a small space portal to a inconspicuous volcano merely.
The thick sulfur-scented black smoke soon enveloped the small square surroundings, simultaneously obscuring everyone's figures.
Gathered around Su Ming, his Nightfall Greatsword shining silver amidst the smoke, the still-stunned three women were also pulled by X-Men, squeezed together.
"Monac, this way...."
Su Ming whispered something to Monac, the Magic Prince immediately understanding, started the incantation.
Minutes later, as the German soldiers dispersed the smoke, arriving at the previous battle site, discovering nothing remained, their enemies vanished without a trace amidst thousands surrounding...
They searched the area, finding nothing, no footprints suggesting departure, nor marks of flight.
Simply vanished into thin air.
Soon, leaders from all corners of the German Army arrived, including an exceptionally luxurious convertible, most conspicuous.
Not only for the vehicle's appealing look but because the driver invariably attracted attention.
He had no skin, beneath the black wide-brimmed hat, only a blood-red visage.
One of Hydra's leaders, today with Baron Strucker off to Japan to start anew, he was Hydra's visible helmsman.
He was Red Skull.
Sitting in the passenger seat, clutching a briefcase, with comical round glasses, was Dr. Zola, recently under his supervision for Cosmic Cube research.
Soldiers made way for him, some eyes filled with fanatic admiration, others only fear, but to Red Skull, all was the same.
He cared not for the ants' opinions.
The car drove directly next to the ruins; he got off, gazing at the uneven ground, estimating the force behind these marks.
Concluding far exceeds his own.
Peaking his interest somewhat but not rivaling the Cosmic Cube.
Dr. Zola, struggling with short legs, followed, still clutching his briefcase: "Schmidt, we're merely passing through Paris, no need to waste time here."
"I know, but just a bit intrigued. After all, men's power cannot compare to the gods' creations, Dr. Zola, your progress makes me anxious..."
Red Skull squatted, touching the ground; still feeling the battle's aftermath, making him quite excited.
But Dr. Zola instantly sweated coldly, being at the leadership's lowest for timidity and tech obsession, sometimes sensing Red Skull might kill him.
"No, if that blue Divine Artifact were easily unlocked, wouldn't be called an artifact; you must give me more time."
"Just uncertain whether our Supreme Leader would grant me time, seems planning my removal...Doctor, which side are you on?"
Red Skull stood, towering over Dr. Zola's bald head, coldly asking.
Dr. Zola shakily fetched a handkerchief from pocket, wiped sweat, feeling breathing laborious under Red Skull's capricious ruthlessness, the question holding but one answer.
He hastily nodded: "Of course.....of course, hail Hydra!"
Red Skull's skinless face possibly smirked, patting Dr. Zola's shoulder, turned to head back to the car: "Well said, hail Hydra!"